Another Phase
by JillyW
Summary: Jesse POV on the development of his new powers and more. Updated to cover the events of Time Squared and Whose Woods...
1. Wednesday

Notes: My initial intention was to just do a couple of scenes about Jess getting to grips with his new powers, but it kind of got away from me and turned into this. And though I intended to call a halt here, at the end of Past As Prologue, Chya (oh, and the boy now she's mentioned it!! *glower*) seems to think there's more to be dealt with. So I'm probably going to be adding to it in the coming days.  
  
The most enormous thanks to Chya for letting me share her views on how phasing certain things might differ, and everything else that we've chatted about and analysed and enjoyed together. And for encouraging me to do something that I really don't normally do...   
  
  
Spoilers: Huge Spoilers for A Breed Apart and Past As Prologue, but will probably add Power Play, Time Squared, Future Revealed, No Man Left Behind and Signs From Above – and maybe more episodes as they air. Hope this is OK...   
  
  
Disclaimers: Sadly, none of the Mutant X team belong to me. I've just borrowed them briefly from their owners, Marvel Studios, Tribune Entertainment Company, Canwest Entertainment and Fireworks Entertainment, and promise to put them back exactly (well, almost, particularly in Jesse's case!) as I found them. No profit is being made from these stories and I don't have anything worth suing for...  
  
  
  
****  
  
ANOTHER PHASE  
By JillyW  
  
  
I never thought I'd see this book again – never thought I'd need it, not once I'd become comfortable with myself and my abilities, found a place to belong, people to be with who just wanted me to be me. But after all this time, it seems that I'm right back where I started...  
  
Damn, but I hate writing - always seems such hard work when there's a perfectly good keyboard to hand. But one of the many shrinks my folks used to ship me off to, in their attempts to work out who and what I was so they could try and make me into what they wanted me to be, once told me that putting things down on paper gave them more meaning than typing them onto a screen. No backspace or delete keys, you see? No way of simply erasing the words as if they'd never been. I did a lot of that back then. As if expunging them from the computer's memory could somehow help me deny they'd ever existed, that the reasons for writing them had never happened. Only it never really seemed to work out that way.  
  
And then, back when I was struggling with my powers and getting so frustrated by the way they were controlling me and not the other way round, Adam suggested that keeping a record of what was happening would help me see that I was in fact making progress, even when it seemed I was taking two steps back for every hard-won step forward. I was sceptical, but he persisted – even gave me this book and a pen so I wouldn't have any excuses. And it did kind of work, at least enough that I couldn't really find a good enough reason to stop.   
  
Looking back now over some of those earlier pages I can see that he was right. I came a long way – a lot further than I maybe realised. A lot further than he maybe gives me credit for.   
  
Which is why I'm sitting here with pen in hand, staring at a blank sheet of paper, trying to remember how I ever made myself write all that stuff before. Because what happened today has me as rattled as anything that's gone before and I need something, some way of working through it that won't involve any of the others. They have their own issues to resolve right now too, and I need to prove to myself – and, if I'm honest, to them as well, particularly Adam – that I can deal with this on my own. I just wish it wasn't all so daunting...  
  
So... where to start...? How about:  
  
  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
Today I dumped Brennan on his butt – and I didn't even have to lay a finger on him to do it! It should have been funny, but in the circumstances I was too busy worrying about Emma's sudden propensity for firing off emotional bomb-blasts to do much laughing. That and wondering what the hell was happening to me...  
  
A New Mutant growth spurt, Adam calls it. Well, I've already been through puberty once, and I have no desire to do it again, thanks all the same. But it seems that, not content with making me everyone else's personal bulletproof vest and pet last resort 'breaker-and-enterer' when the breaking bit would be a bad idea, my mutation now wants to turn me into public enemy number one every time I phase.  
  
I had no control over it – it just happened. And for a moment there I had no idea how to stop it. It scared me how much effort it took to get everything – the stairs *and* me - back to normal, and I was so wiped by it that I actually had to take an afternoon nap! Haven't done that since I was a kid... And it hurt... Well, it would, wouldn't it? Phasing always hurts, but I've kind of grown accustomed to it. But this was a different pain, deeper somehow, more far reaching. I don't even want to think about how it's going to feel when I start actually trying to contain the molecular shift, making it work for me instead of running rampant.  
  
I guess Adam was trying to be encouraging when he told me that I needed to see this new thing as an asset rather than a liability, that once I'd got a grip on it things would all seem different. Easy for him to say, though – he's not the one having to deal with it. And I could have done without the ban on practicing here in Sanctuary – or the reminder that, the way I am at the moment, I'm potentially lethal. That didn't do a whole lot for my already dented self-esteem. I don't enjoy embarrassing myself like I did this morning, and even though Brennan didn't really fall far enough to bruise anything more than his pride, I know it could have been a lot worse. He seemed OK about it after the initial shock, but I still felt like some dumb klutz for letting it happen, for not realising what was going on and stopping it.  
  
Adam's bombshell about this Gabriel Ashlocke, this super-mutant he's so scared of, and the fact that it was Adam himself who actually invented the sub-dermal governor and the pods was just the icing on the cake of a really bad day. I know Adam's no saint, even though I used to think he could walk on water when I was younger, and I also know it's his self-imposed need for atonement that drives him now. But I guess it never really occurred to me before just how far-reaching some of the things he did back then might become for us in the future – or how little I really know about him.  
  
But the bottom line is, unless I can find a way to understand how this thing works, and fast, I'm going to be no good to anyone. And since I can't bear the thought of being left behind while the others go take care of business, I have to believe that it's not going to be as hard as it feels right now.  
  
Tomorrow, first thing, I'm going to start finding out...  
  
  
* 


	2. Thursday

*  
  
THURSDAY  
  
  
Well, that was fun. Really. Honest...   
  
But the good news is I only trashed half the safehouse – so perhaps I'll go back tomorrow and finish the job. If I'm allowed out, that is. Adam seems to think we're not safe to be running around out there right now – and in my case he's probably right.  
  
He didn't want me to go today, but I reminded him of our conversation yesterday and he had to agree – practice makes perfect, and he won't let me do that here. Besides, he'd already let Brennan and Shalimar out to play, so he couldn't really deny me. He could, though – and did – insist that I keep away from anywhere there might be people near by, which is how I ended up out at the old subway station on the edge of town – the one we haven't used much since my Dad gave away the location to the GSA. I'd have preferred somewhere smaller, less daunting, with fewer bad memories attached, but the other two had nabbed my first choice and though I thought about joining them, Adam also insisted that whatever I did I did alone – "in case of more accidents". I guess he's more like my Dad than I realised – they both know how to make a guy feel good about himself...   
  
I have to say it's a good job the place is disused, really, because the steel girder across the tracks might cause a few problems for any trains. Steel doesn't seem to be my forte. Mind you, neither does copper, aluminium or anything else metal, for that matter. Too densely packed to want to give in to me that easily. Wood's good, though – wood phases like a hot knife through butter. And keeps on phasing. Those damn molecules just don't know when to stop – and if they don't, I can't. At least not until I hit something different, some element I haven't encountered yet, and then there doesn't seem to be any way of making the transition.   
  
Brick's pretty easy, too – nice and porous. Shame it's not transparent, though, because then I'd have seen that loose girder resting up in the tunnel roof before all those nice bricks went intangible in a mad rush that I couldn't stop and let it drop straight through. Made a bit of a mess - which I'm probably going to have to clear up. Oh, and the storage crates, too. The ones that didn't phase when the walkway did and are now on the floor, looking a little battered. Good job there wasn't anything that breakable in them. Well, apart from the stock of spare circuit boards for the security systems – and I just bet Adam's going to take them out of my pay.   
  
But it's not my fault this happened, and I can't think of any other way to get a handle on it than by trial and error. I just wish the trials weren't so taxing and the errors so numerous - and so potentially costly...  
  
I needed another nap when I got home – just reinforcing my feelings of being back in kindergarten. But it all uses up so much energy, takes so much out of me – both physically and emotionally – fighting the pull of those alien molecules as they try and run away with me, make me part of them. And it's so way scary to think about how easily that could happen if I let something distract me, lose my concentration.  
  
So far, then, I'd have to say the downsides of this thing are outweighing the positives big time. And we still have the spectre of this Ashlocke hanging over us. I know we should be out there tracking him down if he's that dangerous, not hiding out here or in the safehouses. But I'm too tired to think about that now, and if Adam's to be believed he'll still be there in the morning...  
  
  
* 


	3. Friday

*  
  
FRIDAY  
  
Trashed the other half of the safehouse this morning. But as Emma was there 'helping' me, I guess I can't take all the credit. I think she realises now why I was so frustrated earlier when she was using me for target practice. Why I feel so disheartened by my lack of progress while the others are all enjoying themselves so much...  
  
Shal's like the cat that got the cream – and why wouldn't she be? This is like Christmas and birthday all rolled into one for her, having all the things she loves about being a feral made ten times better. Plus she's getting to beat the crap out of Brennan while she tests it all out. And Brennan's happy to let her do it, so maybe falling on his butt rattled his brains more than I thought! Just kidding, but the two of them have been spending a lot of time together recently, which kind of makes you wonder...   
  
In any case, Brennan is already getting his act together on his 'rocket boy' thing, as Shal calls it. And how cool is that? Man, what I'd give to be able to fly like that – cover those kinds of distances with just a burst of power. Though he'd better be careful or we'll be expecting him to start wearing his underwear outside his pants!  
  
And Emma? Well, she's having so much fun it's indecent. Those mental bazookas of hers are obviously a great way for her to let off steam. I have no idea what emotions she's putting into them, and I'm not sure I want to find out, but even massed I can tell they pack a punch. She's always wanted to be able to go on the offensive and she's lapped up all the training we've given her to improve her hand to hand skills. But she'll never have the body mass to really put someone down for keeps – and now she doesn't need it.   
  
Which leaves me now as the only one of us with purely defensive powers. How much does that suck! Not that I can't handle myself in a fight, because I can, even without using my body density as protection. I've worked hard for that, expended a lot of sweat and blood in the dojo. But it would be kind of nice to have something more, something I could be firing at the bad guys instead of it always being the other way around...  
  
But I digress. Emma hit the nail on the head, I think, when she said I had the hardest job because I had the whole world to deal with. And that *is* the problem here. Every thing, every substance, every element is different. It may only be subtle, but until I try phasing it I have no idea how differently it's going to react. Whether it's going to suck me in, or try and push me away, make me work for it. So the only way I'm ever going to truly get this sorted is by trying everything. Every single thing in the entire universe.  
  
Until then, the element of doubt will always be there. And I'll always be w  
  
  
What was I going to write? Can't remember now – and it can't have been that important. Not as important as the news Adam's just given us – Ashlocke has Shalimar! I can't believe Brennan let him take her, just like that, didn't fight harder for her. He'd have had to kill me before I'd have let him... But Adam says this guy is all of us rolled into one – all-powerful, which is why he's not letting us go into the Strand to get her back. I can't believe it! I don't understand how he can just leave her there with him if he's that dangerous. But he says we have to wait for Gabriel to make his next move, and though I hate the idea of waiting, of doing nothing while Shal is in trouble, there is just the tiniest part of me that's grateful for the extra time to recharge my batteries before we go up against him.  
  
  
* 


	4. Saturday

*  
  
SATURDAY  
  
OK, so maybe, just maybe, this thing is going to work. And just perhaps give me the chance for a little fun as well. Well, I kind of enjoyed sticking Ashlocke's people in the wall and leaving them there for Emma to blast. Like I said at the time, they'd have to be hurting from both ends when they woke up. Mind you, I'm not sure how they were going to get them out of there... But I guess if Ashlocke is as good as Adam says he'll be able to re-phase the wall and release them. Hope so – whatever their intentions, they're still mutants like us and, if what Shal told us is true, only acting under the influence of Ashlocke's power. And I really hate the idea of them dying for him.  
  
Have to say, though, that when I thought about the whole thing later it sort of gave me the shakes. I mean, my biggest fear is of being buried alive – which is kind of bizarre when you think about what I do to myself when I phase through stuff - and there I was happily putting others into a position where it could happen to them. If I'd let them go into the wall face first and left them there... well, it doesn't really bear thinking about. So I'm going to have to be careful how I use that particular trick.  
  
I was pretty nervous going in. The others were all expecting me to just up and use my new powers to get us into Genomex, but they didn't seem to appreciate that I'd never actually tried phasing something with enough control to let a person walk through it. The nearest I'd come was when Emma tried sticking a finger into a wall I'd phased at the safehouse. She seemed fascinated by the whole thing, said it tickled, but that was before the electrical wiring (hard) inside the plaster (easy) fell out and gave her a shock. I should probably add energy-based stuff to my growing list of problem areas – I've worked out that I can phase the conduits fine, but that just releases what they're carrying and that's generally not a good thing.  
  
But they weren't having any of my suggestions that we all just walk in the front way, so I didn't really have any other choice than to go for it. For a moment there, as I made a space in the outer wall big enough to get a bus through, let alone the three of us, I did wonder what would happen if I lost it. If I let them get inside and then couldn't hold the phase long enough for them to get out the other side. If it turned out to be further than it looked, too far for me to handle. At least I know that I can walk through anything as long as it's not too wide for me to hold my breath, stay intangible. But it's become a whole different ballgame now I'm responsible for whichever of the others has come along for the ride. So it's good to know that things reform round whatever's still inside them, rather than trying to crush them out of existence – at least then I'll have the chance to get them out again if I do screw up.  
  
The first one was pretty easy, though, which helped – just plain old brick. I'm getting good with brick. It almost seems to want to help pull me through, unlike other stuff like steel which is just hard work. Brennan bailed out then to go find Shal, which just left Emma to take the really big steps into the unknown with me. And somehow I managed to get the both of us through all the varying barriers blocking our way into the central computer room, despite a couple of nasty moments with some pipework buried in the reinforced concrete that didn't seem to want to play, which was a major achievement given the problems I'd been having while I was practicing. Emma was pretty cool about it, though – she at least seemed to understand what a big deal it was for me, and her confidence in me gave me confidence in myself.   
  
I'm sure I overdid it, particularly on the first couple of tries, phased far more area than I needed to. I should be able to do what's necessary, create the perfect access, without having to give up so much of myself in the process, without having to risk losing myself every time. Without the bone-deep ache it seems to induce...  
  
But we did what we set out to do – to get into Genomex, to take back what Ashlocke stole from us. Shal seems to be OK, though I can tell there's something she's not sharing with us, something that happened while she was with him. But the new mutant database, and the innocent people it contains, is safe – at least for now - and we have a bit of a breathing space to take stock of what's happened the past few days, to work together as a team to make ourselves even stronger for when Ashlocke next sticks his head outside his lair.  
  
I just hope I'm ready to step up to the plate when that time comes.  
  
  
* 


	5. Thursday

*  
  
THURSDAY  
  
Can't believe it's been nearly a week and we haven't moved in on this guy. Haven't done much of anything, it seems, apart from wait. Wait yet again for him to make the first move. Wait for some indication of what his game plan is – like that isn't obvious from what Shalimar learned while she was with him. Wait for Adam to decide the time is right. And in the meantime Ashlocke is in total control of Genomex's facilities and everything that entails. The resources, the technicians, all the New Mutants we didn't manage to save from the GSA. Who knows how many more like him Eckhart had locked up in there? Even though Adam seems pretty convinced he's the only one, he's been wrong before and I'm not sure that we'll ever be ready to take on a whole army of Ashlockes no matter how hard we practice...   
  
Not that I'd ever let the others hear me say that. They've already given up trying to make me feel better about how hard I'm finding it to be as comfortable with my changing powers as they obviously are with theirs, and I'm not about to give them any more reason to accuse me of not thinking positively enough. But I really wish we'd taken him down when we had the chance, instead of leaving him to get stronger, pull more unsuspecting Children of Genomex into his web.   
  
I have a feeling, though, that Adam's need to make amends for his past actions is getting in the way of his objectivity where Gabriel Ashlocke is concerned. That however much of a psychopath the guy is, however great his hatred of the man who made him what he's become, whatever he does to try and get back at him, there's going to be a part of Adam that will understand, sympathise, even. I just hope it isn't going to end up being something we'll all have reason to regret.  
  
  
* 


	6. Monday

*  
  
MONDAY  
  
Well, it feels like it's been weeks since anything happened that seemed to be worthy of comment, but I guess today was the exception. Today was good. Really good. I made a really big discovery, one that's going to make things a whole lot more pleasant. I don't have to phase my whole body to phase something else! In fact, the less of me I phase the easier it is to control the dispersion of whatever I'm touching. So, if I need a window big enough to get, say, me and Shalimar through, I only need to phase my hand – though perhaps a bit more if I need to fit someone like Brennan in there as well... And that means less effort, less risk of the molecules running amok, less soreness afterwards. Which is really great. I just can't believe it's taken me this long to find out...   
  
But that still only puts me in about Junior High in terms of my learning curve, with graduation a hell of a long way off. I've run out of things to work with in the safehouses, though – apart from energy-based stuff, which is still high on my list of problem areas – and with the GSA out of the picture we've had very few opportunities to go use our new powers for real. We haven't even come up against Ashlocke and his people that much, despite Adam's fears. And practice for the sake of practicing gets pretty boring, even when it does produce results like today's.   
  
But, although things have been so quiet out there, there've been some big changes in here.   
  
Firstly Adam decided that, with Ashlocke on the loose out there plotting ways to rule the world – oh, and let's not forget the bit about destroying Mutant X from the ground up - we needed to re-vamp Sanctuary's systems, something I've been thinking about for a while now. Typical, isn't it? Can't count the number of times he's done that to me – come out with the very thing I was about to suggest to him. If I didn't know better I'd swear he was a psionic in disguise. But then again, if he was, he'd know exactly how I felt about having him insist we do it his way.   
  
He probably hasn't noticed, but I'm actually better at this kind of stuff than he is. OK, so he's the genius, the one with the 170 plus IQ, but I've spent a lot more time playing in the virtual world than he has. It was all I had in my life at one time, the only thing that seemed real, and since I've been here I've learnt even more about how to make it work for me. I'd been making small modifications to the central processor for months before he realised, and that was only because it suddenly did something he'd just told everyone it couldn't. But that didn't stop him drawing up the plans and then expecting me to help him implement them, without considering that I might have some ideas that could improve on them.   
  
Same with the Helix. Don't get me wrong, she was badly in need of an overhaul if we're going to match what Ashlocke's probably coming up with. But the whole thing would have taken half the time it did to pull the new specs together if I'd worked on them with him, instead of him trying to do it alone. Once he let me get involved properly we raced through it – and I'm pretty pleased with the results. The new systems in Sanctuary give us a lot of different options that we didn't have before, and flying is now a much more stimulating experience for all of us.  
  
And at least it's given me something to focus on, keep myself from brooding on how other things have been changing in my life. How I've been changing and how little it seems anyone else recognises the fact. How they're all still expecting me to be the same good old Jesse who always cheerfully does what he's told without question, whose naivety makes him only ever see the good side of everyone and everything even though he inevitably ends up disappointed, who has to be protected from the realities of a world his 'silver spoon' upbringing left him unprepared for...   
  
I never used to brood about anything, not really. I guess that's something else that's changed.  
  
The others have been keeping themselves busy, too. Shalimar and Emma have been shopping. A lot. Something about it being good for the soul – though I still have no idea how they can possibly spend so much time - and money! – and seem to have so little to show for it. I mean, if I'm going to spend two hundred bucks on an item of clothing, I expect it to fill something bigger than the envelope sized bags they keep coming back with. But what do I know? Less is obviously more in the world of women's fashion...  
  
I'm worried about Shal, though. The longer we've gone without having some concrete way of getting at Ashlocke, the angrier and more frustrated she's becoming. And that anger, allied with her new abilities, is beginning to make her more reckless than I've ever seen her. She been going off by herself more and more just recently, and I have a sneaking suspicion she's spending her time outside Genomex or The Strand, waiting and watching for him to come out. I don't know what she'll do if he ever does so without a squad of his private army in attendance – I don't think she knows herself, but that's not stopping her.   
  
She's not saying – and neither is Emma, though I'm betting she's in on the secret – what's driving this growing hatred, but there's no doubt Ashlocke has gotten under her skin. It has to be something that happened while she was under his spell – and she'd have loathed that loss of self, I know. Not because she told me, though. She and I don't share things the way we used to, before the others came, and I miss that. But I can see that whatever it is, she's using it as the spur to hone her new powers so she'll be ready for when the time comes.  
  
Brennan's getting ready in his own way too. He's been working out more than ever – like he wasn't big enough already. And when he's not working out, he's keeping an eye on Shal. I thought something might be going on between them a while back, but though I think Brennan's interest in her could definitely be more than just friendly, it doesn't look like she wants to change things that much right now. Maybe once Ashlocke is history things will look different – and I'm not sure how I'd feel about that...  
  
Speaking of things looking different, Emma seems to have decided to celebrate her elevation to the ranks of the armed and dangerous with a pretty radical change in the hair department. It's kind of reddish now – red for danger, maybe? – and she's gone for, uh, 'interesting' bangs that I think she hopes will perhaps disguise the tell-tale glimmer of those mind-blasts of hers. She's getting a lot more... how shall I put it... assertive? as well. Confident. Sure of herself. And the new look is just another facet of that, I think.   
  
It's been very quiet, though - even Proxy Blue's running out of things to say, which is so not her. But it's beginning to take on an ominous quality, like right before the storm breaks, which makes me think it's not going to stay quiet much longer. And I think I'm glad.   
  
* 


	7. Thursday

*  
  
  
THURSDAY  
  
What do they say about never wishing for something, because you might get it? Well, we did. After a week when the number of odd little mutant-related incidents went from zero to alarming, Ashlocke came out of his hole – and Shalimar finally got a chance to blow off a little of the steam that's been building up in her with every atrocity it seems he and his people have been perpetrating.   
  
Not that it turned out so good – even with Brennan turning up uninvited, Super-Mutant still got away with murder and whatever it was he'd gone looking for. And Shal is angrier than ever, particularly as it seems Adam's doing exactly what I was scared he might – letting his feelings of responsibility blind him to just how far out over the edge the guy is. Even the fact he wants us all dead doesn't seem to play any part in Adam's thinking right now – all he can see is that Ashlocke is sick, that it's his fault, and that he owes it to him to try and cure him. As if that's somehow going to change things for the better.  
  
And all I can see is a murdering psychotic who wants to kill us, who's got my best friend so incensed she's smashing vases and ripping power cables apart with her bare hands. A madman who deserves nothing more than to be put out of our misery like a rabid dog.  
  
Adam's having none of it, though, so Emma and I got to go do a little petty theft. I guess he didn't trust Brennan and Shal to get in and out without getting tempted to perhaps try and end this before it even gets started. But us? Oh, he knows we'll do as he wants. Whatever we really think...  
  
Nearly blew it right at the start, though. It's been so long since I actually had anyone with me when I phased something, I forgot about Emma. I was focussing so hard on doing just enough to get us through, trying not to get distracted by how weird it feels to walk through something without going fully intangible, or how damn *sticky* those molecules get if you don't give them enough juice.   
  
And I left her in the wall...   
  
It's a good job she was mostly out. But she shouldn't have had to remind me she was there. I should have been more careful, made sure we were both clear before I let it shut down. And careful is usually my middle name. I don't like making mistakes, and that means I've always tried to make sure I thought through all the angles before I started out. But if I can't do something as simple as that without putting someone at risk, what does that say about me now?   
  
Emma's still got a way to go herself, though, if that girl she nuked was anything to go by. Got a bit carried away? I should say she did... But she hasn't really had much practice at actually zapping the bad guys instead of just bouncing stuff off me, so I guess this was a new experience for her too.  
  
I got what Adam wanted – disgusting as it was poking around in Ashlocke's 'boudoir'. The place was as degenerate as he is, but even the state of his bed wasn't as disturbing as the collection of photos he had stuck up on one of the partitions. Weird stuff, odd mythological creatures mixed in with mutilated and red-painted photos of children, women... including Shalimar, and that spooked me more than anything. It made me start to wonder whether this obsession of hers has roots in something more than just anger at how he treated her. Because he's obviously equally as obsessed with her.   
  
And I still don't know whether to say anything to her, or anyone else, about what I saw...  
  
Perhaps I'll sleep on it.  
  
  
* 


	8. Friday

*  
  
FRIDAY  
  
Got to let off a little steam of my own today – and boy, that's been a long time coming. I hadn't realised how much I needed it – after weeks of nothing more aggressive than working out in the gym or kicking a few simulated butts in the dojo – oh, and shooting hoops with Brennan - I'd almost forgotten the rush I get from going head to head with a real flesh and blood opponent and taking him out.   
  
Not that we don't take our one on one seriously. At least, Brennan does. It never ceases to amaze me that even with his height advantage he feels the need to cheat and use his powers to win. He should know by now, though, that brawn doesn't always guarantee victory over brains – and that our mutant abilities shouldn't be the only weapons in our armouries.   
  
Which isn't to say they don't come in handy, especially when a telekinetic is hurling baseballs at you. Just a bit of massing, though, and only when the alternative would be serious damage. For some reason I'm finding myself preferring to finish these things without resorting to density changes, just using the martial arts skills I learnt with my Dad when I was a kid – back when my Dad was someone I was proud to be with, to learn from – and which I've carried on building up, enhancing. It seems to mean more that way.   
  
But in the end it was my Little League coaches I had to thank for bringing me out on top this time – nothing quite so satisfying as catching a curveball mid-bat and hearing the wood sing as the ball screams away exactly where you intended it to go. It was a bit frightening, though, how much I meant it. It could have drilled straight through his head instead of just knocking him down and I wouldn't have cared. I was so up for a fight, so ready to take out this frustration that I can't explain to anyone on the first stranger that got in my way. Maybe some of Shal's feral stuff is rubbing off on me...  
  
Or maybe my new powers have some hidden factors that I haven't discovered yet.  
  
I had this weird conversation with Brennan while we were trying to decipher the markings on the cloth Ashlocke's boys left behind when they ran. I was just thinking, kind of out loud, about what it must be like to have all that power and for it still not to be enough. Not enough to make you happy. Not enough to save you. I'm not in any way excusing what Ashlocke's become – I can't and won't do that. But I guess I can sort of see how it could happen. And although Brennan got me all wrong when he accused me of saying that we're going to end up like that some day too, I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind.  
  
As I'm sure it has his, and the others too. The fear that this spurt isn't it, that it's just another phase in our mutancies, and that there'll be another and another until it drives us insane like it's done to Ashlocke. Until it kills us...  
  
He's dying. Emma got a reading off the girl we brought back, Valerie, just as he induced her to die rather than tell us anything that might help us. It makes me sick that he can have that amount of control over his people, that he rules them with the fear of what he can and will do to them if they fail him. And if he's dying himself, there's no reason on this earth why he won't feel totally justified in just taking them all with him.  
  
I wonder if they know.  
  
And all this just makes Adam even more determined to do what he thinks is the right thing, particularly now we're getting a better idea of what Ashlocke wanted with that urn and the crystal. We all agree that we have to stop him – it's just the way we do it that the rest of us aren't so sure about.  
  
  
* 


	9. Sunday

*  
  
SUNDAY  
  
Well, yesterday was a hell of a day.  
  
We started off with a little jaunt to Egypt, of all places, where I got to play guard-dog while the girls went and did a Lara. Still think it should have been me who went in, especially as time wasn't on our side, and I didn't really appreciate having Shal get so snippy with me for saying so, even though she apologised later.   
  
And we ended the day narrowly avoiding going up in the biggest bang I've seen in a long time. But we still don't know whether it was all worth it...  
  
Oh sure, we stopped Ashlocke using Avaris and her powers to save himself, to make himself all-conquering. But Adam's plan failed, as we kind of knew it had to. Asking that man to trust him was like a red rag to a bull, and the bull didn't need a second invitation.   
  
It was pretty lucky I got there when I did, because Ashlocke was winding up for the big one. No time for finesse – just straight through the wall, then straight through Adam to get in front of him. Phased to massed in one step – that's not a move I enjoy too much; gives me a monster headache afterwards if I'm not careful, not to mention feeling like I've physically overstretched everything. But there wasn't a whole lot else I could do in the circumstances. Ashlocke's power didn't seem in the least bit weakened by his condition, particularly with Avaris to use as a shield, and even with all four of us taking turns to run interference I think we were lucky to get Adam out of there in one piece and hold them at bay long enough for him to do his stuff.   
  
It was a pretty wild scene; Avaris almost floating up there, glowing and shooting sparks out of her fingertips, while Adam yelled incomprehensible words at her that really seemed to piss her off, and the rest of us tried to keep out of Ashlocke's line of fire as he tried to stop the inevitable. And we only just got out of there in time.   
  
So, the big question now is, did Ashlocke?  
  
Things are pretty quiet again today; I think we're all finding our own ways of absorbing what happened. Adam's shut himself in his office, probably trying to justify to himself the risk we all took doing things his way. I have to wonder, if it turns out that Ashlocke did survive and we have to go through this all over again, whether he'll react the same way. I hope not.  
  
Emma's meditating by the pool, re-centring her emotional equilibrium or something like that. I envy her that ability. There've been times recently when mine has seemed pulled so way out of shape I hardly know where to start getting it back, and today is one of them. I was too tired to think much about anything when we got back last night, but now all I want is to put everything into perspective and move on. But it's never as simple as all that.  
  
Brennan's off out somewhere – probably playing pool. Or scouring the classic car showrooms for the elusive perfect ride. I think he hoped Shalimar might want to go too, so he could help her get over things, but if so he was disappointed.  
  
And Shalimar...? Shal seems to have calmed down, accepted that Adam was doing what he thought was best for all concerned, however she feels about it. But I can understand now why she's been so wound up, so angry these past weeks. If I'd had Ashlocke inside my head, talking to me, taunting me, I'd have got pretty obsessed with finding a way to get him out, too. And with her feral instincts, killing him would have to be top of her list of permanent solutions. I just hope, for her sake, he's gone for good.  
  
I still haven't told her about the pictures. And I don't think I ever will now...  
  
**** 


	10. Wednesday

****  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
Someone up there hates me.  
  
Just as I start to think I'm finally getting back on top of who – or should that be what - I am again, they hurl something else at me. Something more frightening, because it's completely beyond my control and, until it deigns to give me up, I'm at its mercy.   
  
It was a lousy night – a night of 'if only's. If only Adam hadn't listened to that mystery contact of his, if only we'd been a few minutes earlier – or later – before trying to go in, if only we'd seen the guards before they saw us, if only my natural instinct hadn't been to phase through the hanger wall as a way of giving myself time to recover from that crack on the skull, if only... But it all happened, and I'm left with a killer headache, sore kidneys and a potential death sentence tangled up in my molecules.  
  
I wasn't really joking when I said it would teach me to practice holding my breath. It's something I know I should do more of, given how much can depend on me keeping massed or phased a few extra seconds sometimes – particularly in recent months – and as Adam said, if I'd actually had to reform in there and inhaled that nerve gas, it could have been worse. Not that it feels that way right now. Because right now holding my breath is the last thing I should be doing, not if I want to avoid a repeat of what happened in the lab. And I so don't want to do that again.   
  
It wasn't just one of the scariest experiences of my life – right up there on a par with when I discovered I was a mutant in the first place. It was so shockingly fast, so unexpected, so deep-rooted in its inception that it left me powerless to counter it initially. And after all the work I've put in learning to adjust and maintain my density in instant response to whatever threat rears its head, to protect myself and whoever else I'm responsible for, it hit hard to find that even when I'm in supposedly invulnerable mode I could be taken down by something I couldn't even see.   
  
And it's just me. Not like when that virus was taking us all out, killing mutants indiscriminately. No, this one's all mine.   
  
Adam says the nerve gas molecules bonding with mine should work their way out in due course, but he's giving no guarantees and no time frame on that. And given my spectacular display of at least one of those 'symptoms of contamination' he'd said we needed to be guarding against, I'm not really looking forward to the wait. I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but I've got this weird kind of itchy tingling feeling, sort of like having your skin crawling, only on the inside where you can't get at it to scratch. And the headache – did I mention the headache? It's like the worst hangover ever, without the fun of getting loaded in the first place.  
  
I think Adam has a lead on the ones who stole that laser weapon out from under us, the ones who were responsible for the gas, and I for one am looking forward to getting some payback.  
  
Tomorrow, though. First I need to sleep this off...  
  
  
**** 


	11. Thursday

****  
  
THURSDAY  
  
I just watched two people die.   
  
Two human beings vaporised by forces almost too powerful to imagine. One split second they were standing there and the next Pouf! – nothing but scorch-marks and the incongruous but oddly evocative set of dog-tags, a reminder of the purported reason for today's whole charade.  
  
And you know what? I didn't care. Not at all. Not then. Then, I was too angry at how close they'd come to getting away with it. Too angry at how they played us – me. Used me and my abilities to help them feather their own nests. Abused my trust. Took advantage of my damn stupid naiveté – no other word for it. They - *she* suckered me, and I have only myself to blame for what nearly happened afterwards. For putting myself in that position in the first place, as I'm sure Adam will be quick to tell me, if I give him the chance...  
  
I thought I was going to die. I sure felt like I was going to die. It had been such a struggle to control the phase in and out of the central core with the Xiraxium, those nerve gas molecules trying so hard to make me tear myself apart that I doubt I'd have been able to get up off the floor anyway without Soph... without that woman's help. Like I told her, I was completely wiped, what with the way the whole thing drained what was left of my energy reserves, and the pain... well, that didn't help. But then Gaumont turned up, and she showed her true colours and I realised that I'd been had, big time, so that it didn't matter anyway.   
  
That's when the anger started. Which was good. The anger made me risk one more phase, even though my nerves and muscles still had me twitching from the effort it had taken to get myself back together again. Even though I had no idea what was below me and didn't have enough control left to do anything other than drop through and hope there'd be something to stop me. But then, of course, if I hadn't she'd have shot me. I haven't told anyone else, though, that there was a moment there when that prospect seemed preferable to the alternative – the total lottery phasing has become for me right now, the desperate, terrifying, pain-filled battle to retain enough cohesion to make it back one more time instead of dissipating into nothingness. It was short-lived, though – the anger saw to that. The anger couldn't let them get away with it that easily. And I have to say, if things had ended differently, the anger would definitely have been a better final memory to take to the grave with me than the knowledge I was just a dupe.  
  
Not that there'd have been a grave as such. You can't bury a bunch of dispersed molecules, can you? But I'd like to think maybe Shal would make sure there was something to mark my existence, somewhere.  
  
Like someone, somewhere will probably do for those two other corpseless casualties. But better them than me, right?  
  
Though I haven't actually told him in so many words yet, I guess I have Brennan to thank that I'm actually here to write this, for creating the electrical shield that held me like a shroud until I finally won my war with my own body. But the anger is still here, eating away at me. So much so that since we got back I haven't wanted to let anyone near enough to see it, to question its obvious existence and the cause of it. Haven't wanted to be forced to explain beyond the sketchiest of descriptions, just sufficient to deflect if not completely avert further query, what happened out there – both at the plant and later on the street – and how I feel about it. Not until I can understand it better myself, anyway.   
  
But now there are other emotions to contend with as well – elements of regret, remorse, horror that I could have just let them die like that when I could have saved them, instead of just massing and protecting myself.  
  
They deserved it, my anger says. They were going to kill me without a second thought once I'd done what they'd lured me there for, jumped through the hoops they held out for me, in my naïve belief I was doing good.  
  
On the other side, though, I now have my sense of right nagging at me, telling me that what I did makes me no better than them. That it's not my place to pass sentence, play executioner. And I know I should listen to it, even though I'm not ready to yet.  
  
But I didn't actually kill them. Honestly. They really did do that themselves, in their arrogance and belief in their own superiority and invulnerability.  
  
Nevertheless, I did let it happen.  
  
And I don't really feel bad about it. Not really, although I know I should, which makes me wonder whether the small twinge of guilt I have is for that and not them.  
  
Does all that make me a murderer?  
  
I don't know. And I'm too exhausted and sore and hurting right now to care. Maybe things will seem clearer in the morning...  
  
  
**** 


	12. Monday

****  
  
MONDAY  
  
Got some good news today – the nerve gas has cleared my system! So, no more threat hanging over me, wondering if the next time I breathe too deep will push me over the edge, no more tingling itch deep inside that I can never scratch. No reason not to go back to being my good old carefree self again...  
  
The guys were pleased for me, but nowhere near as glad as I was to hear Adam's all clear. Perhaps now I can let it go, stop worrying about how I'll react the next time I have to take someone at face value. Stop seeing Gaumont and Sophia in my dreams, re-living their final instant of agony before they simply ceased to be.  
  
The past few days have been a bit of a nightmare, one way or another. After my various disappearing stunts – both the voluntary and the inadvertent – Adam made sure I stayed close to home where he or one of the others could keep an eye on me. Not that I really felt much like going anywhere – too tired, and too much on my mind for that. But it at least gave me plenty of time to think, to try and get a handle on what happened.  
  
I'm not angry any more. Well, most of the time. It's only occasionally, when I'm looking around for someone other than myself to blame, that the resentment bubbles up inside and re-ignites the rage. But rationally I know there's no point to it, so I just put the stopper back in and bottle it away.  
  
I hate my rational side, sometimes. It would be so much easier to let emotion and instinct take over, like Shal does. React to situations as they're happening, get angry, sad, whatever you need so you can deal with them quickly and then move on, instead of analysing them to death before, during and afterwards. Exactly as I've been doing, picking through the debris of that whole 24 hours in my mind, wondering what I'd have done differently if I'd had the chance again.  
  
Like staying in Sanctuary and not having gone there at all?  
  
Adam hasn't actually bawled me out for that. But he's made it clear in other ways that he's disappointed in me for doing it. For playing into Gaumont's hands, putting us all at risk. He doesn't seem to want to see that I had no choice. That the others were at risk as soon as he sent them in there without me. That if I hadn't gone willingly - even if it was without a clue as to his real intentions – Gaumont would have used them openly to bring me to him. I just saved him the trouble.  
  
Emma was wrong when she said it was brave, though. I don't think I had anything remotely heroic in mind when I went in. It was mostly frustration that drove me out of Sanctuary in the first place – at being sidelined on a 'maybe', at being kept from doing my job as effectively as I knew I could, at knowing my friends were cut off, in trouble, and not being able to do anything directly to help them.  
  
And Adam's reaction only made it worse, made me even keener to prove him wrong, show him I knew what I was doing. Which, based on what we understood to be the situation there right then, I did. I really did, whatever he thinks. I got the job done; got the Xiraxium out, prevented a core meltdown. Given a few minutes to get my breath back, I could have gotten it safely out of the building as well – or at least hidden it where Gaumont couldn't find it. But someone forgot to tell us the ground rules had changed – that I had to find out the hard way.  
  
But I guess I should be used to failing to live up to Adam's expectations. I wonder sometimes what the hell I have to do to get anything more than censure and restriction out of him these days. I know he cares, worries about me as he does all of us, but I can't seem to make him realise that isn't enough any more. He only seems to notice when I do something he doesn't approve of, and I just wish he'd give me some of the unconditional encouragement he seems able to bestow on the others. Even Gaumont managed to give me a backhanded compliment, acknowledged the risk I took as a positive rather than something to be frowned on. But I can feel Adam doing just that, even though he hasn't said in so many words.  
  
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I *was* wrong to do it. Or maybe I just shouldn't get myself all hung up about a few words of praise when I know that in the end what I did made a difference. *The* difference.  
  
One thing's for certain, though. Gaumont got it right when he said that I was too dangerous to let live. But he'll have eternity to regret that mistake, won't he...?  
  
  
**** 


	13. Monday

****  
  
MONDAY  
  
Ashlocke's still alive. I should have known he'd be too clever to let himself get caught in that explosion, but I guess sometimes wishful thinking can lull you into a false sense of security.   
  
We know he's up to something – we just don't know what yet, but now we know where he's been hiding, licking his wounds, I think we're going to be putting in some time out there, watching him, ready for when he makes his move.  
  
I hope he comes my way when he does. For all that Shalimar says she's cool with Adam's 'save not destroy' policy, I don't think even she knows how she's going to react when she comes face to face with him again.  
  
**** 


	14. Wednesday

Author's Note: Contains references to the missing scene at the end of Time Squared that I covered in my post-ep fic, 'Closure', which also has additional insights into Jesse's thoughts and feelings that I didn't want to repeat here.  
  
****  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
Well, that was... different. I don't know that I have the words to describe what happened yesterday, though I guess with all the stuff I've seen since I got into Mutant X the idea of time travel shouldn't throw me too much. Just never really thought I'd be doing it!  
  
All that talk in the sci-fi shows about not messing with history, changing the timeline – the Temporal Prime Directive, as they'd call it on Star Trek? Well, I've seen first hand what can happen to the now when the past gets altered and, believe me, it's far more devastating than just suddenly finding yourself in a whole new ballgame with no memory of how things were before.  
  
Maybe it wouldn't have been the same for people further away from the event's epicentre, but when Adam died back there in 1978 the effect on everything he'd created was immediate and catastrophic. And terrifying, because I knew what it had to mean and the thought of how close we came still scares me witless. So much so that I'm not sure I want to think about it any more, let alone write about it here.   
  
Suffice to say we fixed it. Just. Or maybe that should be *I* fixed it. With Diana's help, of course, however unwillingly given. But as she started it by sending Ashlocke back in search of a pre-emptive cure for whatever it is that's killing him, it was only fitting she should be instrumental in finishing it. For now.  
  
I helped, though – start it, I mean. Even though I got my wish and was right there when he made his move, I let him get away. Let him elude me long enough to reach her, let him use my indecisiveness – my lack of what it takes to make the tough decisions, as Brennan would no doubt tell me if he'd been there – to leave me floundering in his wake. And by the time I got to the hospital she'd been hiding out in, it was all much too late. Too late for me to do anything more than admit to Adam that I'd failed, that I'd not only lost Ashlocke but Brennan and Shalimar as well.  
  
I hated that.  
  
And Diana's sniping didn't help matters much, either. She wouldn't give me anything I could use to get some points on the board with Adam before I got her back to Sanctuary, which left me in that familiar role as spectator while he and Emma got to work on her, took what she told them and made their own decisions on what to do about it, without asking for or needing my input or advice.  
  
I bet Emma didn't give any thought to what it might take to make everything right in the end when she jumped in there after Adam, and abandoned me to worry about them all somewhere back there in the past.  
  
And I'll bet she didn't get chewed out for disobeying his orders to stay in Sanctuary. Seems like I'm the only one he considers irresponsible enough to be in need of that kind of discipline...  
  
Em's got some weird idea that she remembers stuff about Adam being dead. I've tried explaining to her that she never actually experienced it. That when I got Diana to take me back to right before it happened, so I could stop it, make things right again, she and Brennan and Shal weren't the same people who knew he'd died, who'd done all that stuff she thinks she did with Ashlocke afterwards – because as far as they were concerned that event had yet to take place. And in the end, never did. But I guess sci-fi shows weren't her thing because the whole temporal physics part of it went right over her head.   
  
Adam understands, though. He and I had a chance to talk a bit when we took Diana off to a safe house so Ashlocke couldn't get to her again. Nothing deep and meaningful – even when it's just the two of us we never seem to do that these days. I know he means well, but I can't help finding myself reading between the lines of what he says, looking for the patronising, the subtle and not so subtle criticism and direction, all the tiny indications that he doesn't see me as grown up enough to make my own decisions without his help, and ready to stand by the consequences of them.  
  
Like I did today.  
  
Lucky for him, really, that I am. That I did.  
  
Lucky for all of us, I guess.  
  
He did say thank you, though. He didn't need to, not really – I was just doing my job, and letting him die just so wasn't an option. But I have to admit it felt good to hear him say it...  
  
Ashlocke's still out there hiding like some wounded animal. And I have a feeling the next time we meet up we might not be so lucky.  
  
* 


	15. Tuesday

****  
  
TUESDAY  
  
Speaking of wounded animals... But it's not Ashlocke this time - he's been keeping a low profile since he got away from me, dived back through Diana's time portal before us and disappeared, which doesn't fill me with a whole lot of confidence for a peaceful future. He's probably building his strength for the big one – whatever that's become in his warped mind.  
  
No, this is a different kind of animal – at least, that's what the world is calling it. We know better – well, kind of, though I don't think we're agreed on exactly what it is. Shalimar's convinced it's one of us, and a feral to boot, but only having seen the amateur video footage its last poor victims shot I'm not a hundred per cent sure I agree. She and Brennan have been up close and personal with it now, though, and he's certain it's at least part human. How a human ended up that way is anyone's guess – and finding out is Adam's latest pet project to keep us all distracted from what Ashlocke might be up to.  
  
Shal and Brennan pulled what seemed on the face of it to be the fun assignment, getting to go out and play in the forest. It made sense for her to be there, given what they're looking for, but him? By his own admission he doesn't like the whole 'back to nature' thing, and he sure griped enough about it when Adam told him what he wanted. But he wasn't about to give up the chance to spend time out there with her - and certainly not to me. Admitting I could handle something he couldn't would be way too much for his ego to allow, though it gave us all a laugh how quick he was to deny her suggestion he might be scared by the prospect of a night in the boonies.  
  
Whatever, Emma and I got to stay behind and handle the research detail. Again.   
  
I know I shouldn't complain. After all, it's what I'm good at, as I proved again today, digging up those deleted files about this Nathaniel Block guy. I'd take a bet that none of the others - not even Shal - could have gotten more than the guy's name. And at least we get to go follow up on the Chelton VA hospital lead it produced ourselves.  
  
Seems like it's not going too well out there in the woods, though. They did actually catch up with the... guy? – but he seems to be immune to both Brennan's electrical calling cards and Shal's feral tricks, managing to give them the slip and clawing her pretty good into the bargain. Typically she'd telling everyone she's OK, that she'll be healed before we know it, but I can't help worrying about her. There's something going on with her, something more than the physical injuries, some deep-rooted emotional reaction triggered by the experience that's niggling away at her. I hope Brennan's not planning on doing much sleeping tonight, because if anything happens to her on his watch he's a dead man.  
  
I doubt I'll be resting too easy myself. We didn't get through checking out the hospital plans until late, too late really to go up there and check out the mysterious surviving victim of our 'Sasquatch', so we're going to get an early start tomorrow, hopefully get in and out before things get too busy. But I have a feeling there's a lot more to this than the few facts I managed to pull out of the trash in the police databases. Why else would someone have tried to erase Nathaniel's past so thoroughly? So I reckon if we can find him, talk to him about what happened, it'll bust this can of worms wide open – and I'm looking forward to seeing what pops out.  
  
**** 


	16. Wednesday

****  
  
WEDNESDAY  
  
Note to self: You really need to stop wishing for stuff to happen, because it never seems to turn out the way you expect or want...  
  
Can't believe it was only 24 hours ago that I was getting excited about solving this puzzle, this mystery we were uncovering. Now, I wish Adam had never read those newspaper reports, never decided it was something we needed to check out – today was chock-full of nasty surprises, and even now it's over there's precious little to cheer about.  
  
This wasn't a matter of good versus evil. There weren't even really any bad guys out there to take on and defeat in the name of right, not unless you count that agent guy Holt and he was out of the picture before we got there. And there were certainly no winners. Because in the end I think we all lost something.  
  
But we waded on in anyway, and two more of us died. Oh yeah, I know, they'd have died even if we hadn't got ourselves involved, probably more violently. I just wouldn't have had to watch it happen, had to share my friends' guilt and anger when they couldn't save them, knowing that what had made these men what they were was nothing more than government greed, with total disregard for their human rights – New Mutant or not.  
  
Then I might be able to sleep better.  
  
The day didn't start out so bad, despite having to drag myself out of the sheets at some God-awful hour - if I had my way, anything before 9 a.m. would be abolished. The only thing that made it better was the thought of Brennan roughing it out there on the mountain in that camper van; those bench seats are a pretty poor substitute for your own bed, especially for someone as big as him. Of course, I didn't realise then how sick Shalimar was getting. If I'd known, I'd have swapped with him in a heartbeat, but instead I went in search of that can-opener – and things pretty much went downhill from there.  
  
Chelton totally wasn't what I expected. Emma was right on the money when she said it wasn't a normal psych wing – getting in was much tougher than anticipated, even though we'd checked the plans thoroughly. We ended up having to go the long way round, and because I wasn't about to risk leaving Em in a wall again I had to put a lot of effort into it - full phase all the way, and even sending her through first each time so I could be sure she was clear before I shut it down. But it was still hard getting myself through some of them and out the other side. Sometimes even brick just doesn't want to let me go, and that final barrier in particular had something else in there that made it like treacle for me. I asked Emma about it later, but she didn't notice anything different. Must just be me, I guess... something else I obviously need to work on.  
  
It was good to see that she hasn't completely forgotten what subtlety means. Ever since she got her new psionic bazooka thing, her first reaction to every difficult situation seems to be to just blast away. But sometimes, like today, all the tricks she used to have to rely on – the little mind games, the playing on peoples' fears and anxieties, making them see and feel what she wants instead of what was real – make more sense, especially when you're trying to get in and out unnoticed. That panic attack she induced today was perfect, no need for anything more, but I think she forgets sometimes that offence isn't everything.  
  
I don't think I'll ever forget that first sight of poor Nathaniel, though, once we found him. It was like something out of an old B horror film, the ones with the stereotypical wacko scientists turning unsuspecting test subjects into incontrollable monsters. Looking at him, bound to the chair like that, and with that tray of horrific looking instruments next to him, I kept expecting to see all those outward signs of whatever they'd done to him – the hair, the protruding brow and jaw, the teeth and nails – to magically reverse themselves and reveal the man beneath, just like in the movies. You know how they do it, in close-up, with those hokey special effects? I could hardly take my eyes off him, sort of mesmerised, waiting for something to happen, to tell me what I was seeing was an illusion.  
  
But this wasn't a movie, and there were no mad scientists involved. Well, not in the classic sense, anyway, though you have to question the sanity of the men who conceived and executed Project 318. What I found in the database we downloaded and brought back with Nathaniel made my blood run cold. It's bad enough they *bought* these guys from Genomex like that, played around with their feral DNA to the extent that they became more animal than man. But if they'd gotten around the adding elemental and molecular genes in there as well, who knows what they might have ended up with. I'm sure they didn't. If they'd known what they were about, instead of just doing a bit of trial and error dabbling into genetic manipulation, they surely would have planned on some better outcome than that.  
  
I didn't think we were going to get Nathaniel out of there alive, let alone get him home, but - although I doubt the poor guy really had a clue where he was or what was going on – he seemed determined to hold out at least long enough to die free. Even so, we had to more or less carry him most of the way – not easy when you also have to worry about holding your breath and phasing a wall or two. But we made it out, and he hung on somehow until we got back to Sanctuary.   
  
It was obvious he was really sick, though, and not just from the bullets they pumped into him. I watched Emma trying to calm him while Adam did his thing, wanting to do something to help but not knowing what. I just couldn't get my head round what had happened to him – still can't, really. You'd think after all we've seen, all we've been through, this would have been just one more sign that what we're doing – working to free mutants like him – is right. But I think this struck too close to home, especially when we found out about the virus that was killing him. A virus with no existing cure, that only affects ferals.  
  
A virus that Nate's good buddy Mike had infected Shalimar with as well.  
  
There was nothing we could do to save Nathaniel. He'd lost too much blood and the infection had taken way too big a hold on his already screwed up physiology. Adam tried, though, kept trying although we all knew it was hopeless, begging him to breathe as if he could somehow bring him back through sheer strength of will. And it was left to me to stop him, get him to let the guy go with at least some dignity after all that he'd been through. Emma seemed too shell-shocked by whatever emotions she'd been fielding from both the dying man and Adam himself; desperation, desolation, denial, despair – it was all there in her face as she stood by and watched me pull him away. I guess she'd also have to have been picking up on my own feelings of sorrow and distress at how things were turning out. And let's not forget the impact of my growing comprehension that what killed him was more than likely going to kill Shal too, given what I'd seen in his blood work – that had to be coming over loud and clear too.  
  
Adam took it badly, worse than I'd expected. I know he feels the loss of every New Mutant deeply, but I think the fact this one had suffered so much more abuse just because of what he was had made Adam more determined to give him his life back. And typically he let his failure drive him to work even harder at finding a way to save the others, so that his death might at least have some meaning.  
  
There was so little time, though. I suppose I'd chosen not to think about Adam's warnings that Shal might only have another day before she turned into a wild animal too – or whatever, because he really couldn't say exactly how the virus would affect her – and then died. But Brennan's call changed all that, and it suddenly became a race just to find her before she went too far, completely lost control.  
  
The flight out there was hell, not helped by the satellite interference that kept us out of contact with them until we were practically on top of them. But I spent the whole journey with my stomach squirming like a pit full of snakes, trying real hard not to imagine her out there in the wilderness, lost, alone, fighting a battle against her own body, her own instincts, that there was no way she could win without our help. I heard Emma doing her best to reassure Adam, telling him what he needed to hear – that she believed the anti-virus he was working so hard on would do the job. But we were all painfully aware that this was a step into the unknown, even for him.  
  
Funny how many of those we seem to be taking these days.  
  
He nearly didn't get the chance to try it out, though. We were only just in time to stop Michael – if there was still anything left of the guy inside what they'd turned him into – finishing Brennan off. And Shal seemed to have slipped way too far down the same track, even to the extent of forgetting that Adam would never kill a New Mutant out of hand, no matter how far their mutation had taken them. Otherwise she'd have understood he was only trying to help Michael, not hurt him, and she might not have interfered. But she did. And I know her well enough to know she's going to be paying the price for a long time.  
  
I wish I could have saved her from having to make that choice. But it all seemed to happen so quickly, and I was kind of held in thrall by sheer disbelief at what I was seeing – Emma too, I think. It took that final gunshot to jolt us out of it, and by then it was too late.  
  
Shal was unconscious most of the way back, which was far less heart-breaking than the delirium that came in between. The virus had already made inroads into her neural pathways and there were no immediate signs she was responding to Adam's treatment, so we all had to share her confused ramblings and screams of pain and anger at being restrained during those periods she was awake. And that didn't make the waiting once we got back here any easier.   
  
Adam wouldn't let any of us see her until he was sure she was stabilising, but none of us wanted to be too far away in case the unthinkable happened. So we were reduced to loitering outside her room, pacing when the tension became too much – which was most of the time as far as Brennan was concerned - though Emma and I seemed to take more comfort from just sitting together quietly while he vented his frustration at how long it was taking, and what felt like every single event that had brought us to that moment. No words were needed from us – and we had none to give anyway, not then. Not while the full implications of what had happened, and what it might mean for the rest of us, were sinking in.  
  
They're still sinking, I think - enough that I need more time to really get things into perspective, sort through this jumble of emotions that I'm feeling right now. But at least we know Shal's through the worst of it, and that's enough for the moment.   
  
**** 


	17. Friday

****  
  
FRIDAY  
  
Got to spend a little time with Shalimar today. Adam's concoction, combined with more than a full day of mostly uninterrupted sleep, seems to have finally done the trick and, although she's drained by the whole thing, we know her natural recuperative powers will have her up and around in no time. Physically, anyway. Emotionally, I think it's going to take a lot more than her mutated genes or a bunch of chemicals to sort her out.   
  
It seems to me she lost a little bit of her soul when she had to kill Michael to save Adam – and to ultimately save the man from what he'd become. I could see it in her eyes, feel it in the way she pulled back from my hug so quickly, hear it in her voice as she pled fatigue to get out of talking about anything more consequential than what she fancied for supper. It's hurting her more than the aching muscles and slowly healing claw-marks – more even than the knowledge of how close she came to ending up a victim of her own feral DNA.   
  
Emma was right again when she said that we'll never know what our mutations leave us open to, though. I had my own brush with it with the whole Gaumont thing, and now Shal. But we were both lucky – it only really made us a danger to ourselves, and we came through the other side without lasting damage to us or anyone else. But I dread to think about the consequences of Brennan or Emma losing control of their powers, the unintentional havoc they could wreak before Adam worked out a way to fix them. Providing he even could. Like he said on the Helix, he was flying blind on this one, no idea if the antidote he'd worked up was going to work until he tried it out for real. And he needed a guinea pig for that.  
  
Shalimar. This time.  
  
Who next?  
  
At least Adam's learning from the experience, which has to be a positive, but even that's got me wondering. I never thought about it before, seeing his focus on building a team comprising a member from each of the four main mutancy groups as just his way of ensuring the strongest possible force to stand up for the rights of those he was instrumental in creating. But now... all this talk of needing guinea pigs, test subjects... I mean, is that what we are? How he sees us? All of us? Nothing more than lab rats he can study in his efforts to prepare for a New Mutant future that none of us can foresee?   
  
He knows far more than he's saying, that's for sure. Thinking back over the weeks to when our powers went into overdrive, it's only now that I realise he was the only one of us that really wasn't surprised that it was happening. And I think I understand why he was so devastated by Nathaniel's death – he'd been expecting something like this mutant-specific virus to rear its ugly head, and was hoping he'd be better prepared for it. But it looks like he's just playing it by ear, like the rest of us, so could be he doesn't know as much as I'm maybe imagining.   
  
Listen to me - I'm beginning to sound like some sort of conspiracy theorist. He's probably just trying to protect us, like he always does – and, whether we want it or not, I should respect that rather than resent it.   
  
Shouldn't I?  
  
Whatever... it goes without saying, really, how glad I am that we got Shalimar through this one. Well, maybe not totally without saying. I wanted to tell her – tried to, several times. But somehow there was never the right moment, what with Adam or Brennan flitting in and out the room, asking her how she felt, what she remembered. There were a few things I wanted to ask her about myself, but I could see she wasn't ready to do much answering – she can be real evasive when she wants.  
  
There's one question I'll probably never ask her, though, even when she's back firing on all cylinders again. Did she know the difference between the two guns lying there on the ground; Adam's, loaded with the anti-virus, and the other one – Holt's, as I found out after – the one packing the lethal punch? And if so, was Michael's pain just too much for her to bear, his threat to Adam enough to break through the bond she'd developed with him? Or had that bond told her that he'd already gone too far for there to be a chance of redemption? Was that what made her give in to his demand – no, his plea, that she kill him?   
  
I guess we'll never know – not unless she feels like telling us of her own accord. And I can't see that happening. At least, not for a while.  
  
Oh, she's trying to convince us already that she's hunky-dory, but she's not out of the woods yet – and yes, the pun is intentional because I have a feeling a part of her will always be out there. The hard bit will be dealing with the legacy of what she so nearly became, what she shared with that lost but oh so kindred spirit. And while the virus has cleared her system, there's no guarantee it won't be back in one form or another in the future.  
  
But then, as Adam said, there are no guarantees in life – not for anyone, and certainly not for us.  
  
**** 


End file.
